Middle
by Aurorarose
Summary: The second of a trilogy of shorts about Xander, Anya and Buffy, and about the way we think our hearts grow and evolve, but they always come home to what they hold dear.


Middle ****

Middle

By: Aurorarose13

As morning broke over a still slumbering Sunnydale, Anya managed to drag herself from bed, take a shower and get back to her preparation duties at a leisurely pace. She had many stops ahead of her remaining and a thousand things to check and recheck, but with the day so pleasant and her attitude so carefree, she didn't mind one single thing.

Xander, on the other hand, was in a much sorrier state. He barely awoke by noon to get ready for last minute tuxedo adjustments then showed up ten minutes late for the cake crisis he had been called in for the previous evening. With so much stress, the Scooby could hardly wait to get back to his place and take that hot shower he had fussed about all day. 

On the way home, however, as Xander passed the park, he slowed his car to admire the vast greenery then eventually stopped. The color of the grass was so alluring that he could hardly resist the emerald winking. Enticed out of his vehicle, Xander took a short walk along the stone cutouts, practicing his funny steps for the march down the aisle. His venture concluded with the appearance of a worn wooden bench that overlooked the field where the actual wedding was to be held. 

He took a seat and breathed in the sweet summer air, his eyes scanning the verdant blanket that stretched from east to west—seemingly forever. _The day after tomorrow_, he thought. _This is where the old life ends and the new one begins._ Already he saw the bleached white wooden skeleton of the trellis being erected for the practice ceremony tomorrow. Chairs were being lined up in precise rows to accommodate the mere thirty guests they were expecting (with Anya having no family of her own, it was pretty much the Scoobies and the Harris clan—those who cared enough about Xander to come). Even the ivory carpet was laid out, a spectacular tapestry that lead to the impromptu alter. Little men hurried up and down the empty rows of chairs, Xander and Anya's wedding planner stomping her foot and barking out orders. In spite of his hideous day, the young man smiled a smile that nearly reflected or matched the brilliance of the sun. He was ready, at least his mind was.

Gradually, as the fiery orb dipped a little lower into the sky, Xander decided it was time to pack it in and head home. When he stood up to leave, he ran smack into Buffy. Her face was hollow and weary looking, as though she had spent all night scrutinizing her entire life. Though her hair hung limply around her eyes, it still sparkled with its usual luster under the late afternoon sun. Those gentle eyes Xander had come to know so well widened with surprise as she glanced up to apologize. "Xander!" she yelped, a very unusual sound for the Slayer.

"Buffy!" he mimicked, his hands pressed to his cheeks. "Fancy meeting you here. What's up? You look like crap."

For a moment, she rolled her eyes, but then her gaze steadied and a seriousness took over. "Sit back down, Xand. We need to have a talk."

Although he assumed the concerned friend role, Xander couldn't help but wonder what travesty had befallen his quaint hometown now. "The world's gonna end on my wedding day, isn't it?" he eked out abruptly. The way he said it had more nonchalance in it than fear or surprise.

"Maybe," she whispered cryptically. It was then he realized that Buffy wasn't looking him in the face; she almost always did with serious matters like Apocalypse.

Tilting her chin up to his, he said, "Buffster…"

"I love you!" she blurted out, immediately covering her mouth with her hands. Buffy's eyes presented a horrified version of shock in their dramatic depths. The park scene froze.

"Buffy," Xander begged, "please tell me what drugs you're on so I can avoid them. They apparently have some undesirable side effects. Now, don't play with me. What's wrong?"

The Slayer shot up out of her seat, her blonde hair fanning around her head in anger. She spat out words like venom, spinning wildly around in front of him. "Everything, nothing, this wedding, you!" Then Buffy moved over to Xander's knee and rested a hand on it. "Everything's wrong, Xander, because you're everything right." Her gaze was more intense than he had ever felt before, in fact, it almost burned.

Xander didn't know what to do. He simply stared back at Buffy, probing her eyes as though they were the keys to her heart. He wanted to know what she was feeling, or if she was just messing with him. She returned the same heated look, trying to read his soul. "I don't know what to say to that," Xander eventually admitted rather indignantly, turning his face away from hers. "Does the word 'sudden' mean anything to you?"

"You said last night you once loved me."

"Well duh!" he shrieked, flying off the bench with his arms flailing. 

"Then why didn't I ever see it before?"

With a tortured look in his eyes as well as his voice, Xander answered her honestly, "Because you never bothered to look." The reply seemed to slap the Slayer across her face. That dark look enshrouding her visage only deepened, and despite his other feelings, Xander felt sorry for her. He began pacing along a length of sidewalk. "I don't think you have an inkling to the lengths I went for you, and what's worse, I don't think you ever cared. I would have given up my very soul to be with you, Buffy, and you never once asked me why or how. We were friends, not even best friends really. My link to you was your Slayer Super Secret. I was an outcast in my own circle of friends and shunned by the object of my affections." He turned his back on the Slayer as if to walk away.

Buffy's voice took on a pleading quality. "Please," she whimpered, "listen to me!"

"And why should I!" he roared. "You never gave me the time of day—what you gave me was a grocery list for jelly doughnuts and a broken heart!" The Scooby had no idea where his rage had originated from, but all he knew was that in was burning in his chest where his heart beat. No, he knew why. The scar tissue was tearing again, right down the middle, and it ached more than ever. 

"How can you be so cruel?" 

He laughed bitterly. "Love is cruel." A momentary silence thankfully wrangled the scene, but it was merely momentary.

"I'm sorry!" she wailed, now down on her knees and in a cascade of tears. "I don't understand what's going on inside of me! My… my heart feels like it's on fire when I'm near you. I choke on my words. I can't think straight. And I don't understand any of this! Dawn wouldn't help me, and mom's not around any more to make sense of it." 

She sobbed unexpectedly—an amazingly rare thing—and Xander's frenzy melted away. He knelt down to her level and put his hands on her shoulders so she was forced to stare into his eyes. "I'll tell you what's happening, Buffy. It's called temporary insanity. We all get it at points in our lives when something big is going on. Anya had it last night, and now it's your turn. I can forgive you for what you said about loving me. Consider it all in the past. Let's go get, say! How about a jelly doughnut?" He offered his hand as a peace treaty when he stood up. The grin on his face was a playful as usual.

Buffy frowned. "No," she stated stubbornly. "I don't want to forget this. I want to make you fall in love with me again."

A growl originated frown Xander's throat. He raged suddenly, "Why do you have to be so damn greedy? Can't you see that's all this is? Greed and selfishness! You're not the only one involved anymore. Buffy, you've always wanted what you can't have, and when you have it, you throw it away like garbage! I don't need or deserve a love like that. I need a stable, HEALTHY relationship, like what I have with Anya." This time Xander really did feel like slapping the woman. How could she be so insensitive to everyone else? Again he turned his back to go, and her words yanked him home to the position in front of her.

"Touch me, Xander!" she screamed at the top of her lungs. "Touch my skin!" Buffy wrenched his hand over to her cheek, placing it on the yielding skin. "I'm warm, just like Anya. I can be just like Anya. All I need is for you to realize I'm not going anywhere."

In a solemn, hesitant voice, Xander replied, "You're so incredibly beautiful, Buffy, but how can you be so ugly at the same time?"

At that prompting, she smacked him across his half-smiling face. "How dare you! I'm pouring out my soul to you, and you stand there and treat me like I'm nothing!"

Xander snorted through his nose. "Dramatic irony, don't you love it?" 

Buffy couldn't move; her body was frozen in time. She had never been so paralyzed. It was like dying in a way she couldn't imagine. Now she had the privilege of feeling what Xander had suffered through for three years, and all she could think was My God. Never in her life had she been exposed to so much guilt. It flooded over her in great tidal waves, and Buffy threatened to drown. Though she fought her way to the surface, something pulled her down again: the ghost of a long dead Xander. Gradually, she let her last breath go and she made her wide-eyed descent to the bottom. With a gasp, her body finally relaxed, leaving Buffy back in the real world and in Xander's arms. Apparently she had passed out and fallen, so Xander had picked her up and moved her over to the bench. Once comfortably seated, he let her go. A quick brush of his lips to her forehead, and he spoke in a hushed whisper, "You're forgiven; I did that long ago. See you at the wedding on Sunday." 

Slowly Xander's form faded away, and Buffy sat staring limply at the field before her. Yes, the wedding would be magnificent, she imagined, and that knowledge ripped her very soul in half. 

@~~`~~~

It was late evening by the time Xander reached home, and his everything ached. When he walked in the front door, he noticed that Buffy and Dawn's stuff was gone. _Good riddance!_ he thought quickly, but he soon changed his mind. That was unfair. It wasn't Buffy's fault; nothing could ever be her fault. 

Xander waddled into the kitchen and opened a can of Barq's root beer. He drank a quick swig and gagged on the taste. "God! When did this stuff start tasting so nasty? Hey, An!" he yelled down the hallway. "Want something to drink?" No answer came.

Wandering down the corridor with drink in hand, Xander went toward the bedroom. He heard some noises rumbling, so he walked a little faster. "Anya? I said, did you wa—" Standing in the doorframe, Xander briefly glanced in then immediately dropped the can.

THE END


End file.
